Page:Modern Russian Poetry.djvu/167



"You sit on the bed there In the sunset's full crimson, Pillows crumpled, Looking distracted,—what Troubles you?"

"Oh, swept by Transparent Gold cataracts, The fir-tree tops Loom athwart the sky's blue."

"Orphaned, alone, I shall Languish, Through summery Twilights and Winter nights. There are new flights, but Try them I dare not. Oh, do not die!"

"Oh, above the pines I float off into æther seas. Who, there, what, there, Swathes the sky with whitenesses, As with vestments of silver?"